Hokage Shikamaru
by Tamashi.no.Koe
Summary: And to think that he'd just wanted to go to bed early. He closed his eyes... And when he woke up, he was... Wait. What? Hokage Shikamaru? HOKAGE Shikamaru? Hokage SHIKAMARU? Somehow, he got this hunch that something wasn't the way it was supposed to be.
1. Chapter 1

**HOKAGE SHIKAMARU**

**Chapter One**

Shikamaru wanted to go to bed early. It had been a particularly tiring day--well, actually, he'd just done a few D-rank missions, but things like that were _troublesome_, and thus so _draining_--and all he had in mind was his nice, soft pillow.

He would gladly have gone to sleep now, had it not been for his mother. The troublesome woman seemed to think that a day could not end before he'd made some ground-breaking, world-saving contributions to society. She didn't seem to understand, however hard he tried to convince her, that Chuunins weren't _supposed_ to do things like S-rank missions or save the world.

They had Jounins for those kinds of things.

But since, regardless of that, his mother thought he should go out there and plunge himself into mortal peril, come within an inch of his already weakened--through all those _tiring_ D-rank missions--life and risk his neck in general for a few more times before dinner… Shikamaru had allowed himself to be shooed out of the house, and had promptly headed for a quiet spot of grass just outside Konoha. Now that there was no chance of his mother coming across him while doing her evening shopping, he could watch the clouds in peace and while away the time until he could finally go home and sleep.

Most likely, he would have to wait a _whole_ _half hour_ for the sun to set before he could do that.

Which was troublesome.

Shikamaru prepared to sigh in resignation, but decided he couldn't be bothered. He really didn't have the energy to sigh. Instead, he closed his eyes, sinking into the soft, comforting grass.

He was _so_ tired. All those troublesome missions. Why did he have to do such troublesome things? There were people like Naruto, who--being out of their _minds_, obviously--actually _liked_ missions, to the point of _craving_ the troublesome tasks…

_Honestly_, he just wanted to go to bed early.

When he finally opened his eyes--there was this troublesome noise which had startled him--the sun had long set, and the stars had come out. At least, that was the way his surroundings should have been like, if it weren't for the lamps around him, which made the sky seem as bright as day.

"…what the…" Mumbling bemusedly, Shikamaru sat up gingerly, blinking in the harsh light.

"Shikamaru-sama, are you all right?" A frantic voice by his ear made him jump.

_Shikamaru-sama?_ He didn't remember ever being called that in his life. He turned to face the speaker and gave an even more violent start of surprise--

The face he saw wasn't that of a human. Instead, he was staring into a white and red mask designed like a bird. The ANBU member spoke again. "Shikamaru-sama? Where are you injured?"

"…injured…?" What had given him--or her, the voice sounded quite feminine--_that_ idea? "I'm…not injured…" Shikamaru muttered before finally taking a good look around.

At least a dozen ANBU members were crowded around him, all either with their kunais out, ready to do battle, or else peering anxiously at him--he supposed they were; he couldn't really tell from the masks--and speaking in the same panicked voices.

"We found you here, lying on the grass, Shikamaru-sama," the first Bird ANBU said apologetically. "Are you sure--?"

For all his IQ, Shikamaru couldn't figure out for the life of him which part of 'lying on the grass' would pose a problem for anyone. And besides, he'd never done anything serious enough to attract the attention of _one_ member of the ANBU. He doubted that he would ever have the ability, or be of enough importance, to draw twelve. Even if he _died_.

"Were you attacked, Hokage Nara?" a deeper male voice enquired.

"…No," Shikamaru replied, his mind still reeling and fighting to grasp all the aspects of what was going on. "No, I just…fell asleep, I guess…"

The hustle and bustle ceased abruptly as, one by one, every face turned to his. Then, they slowly looked at each other. "You…_fell asleep_, Hokage Nara…?"

"Yes," Shikamaru confirmed. Really, why were all these people being so troublesome about such a minor--

Wait.

Hokage Nara?

Shikamaru looked down, and instead of his usual clothes, he saw only white. His hand shot up to grope at his hair, but instead of his spiky ponytail, he felt only the triangular shape of the familiar Hokage hat.

Hokage Nara?

_Hokage_ Nara?

Hokage _Nara_?

Somehow, Shikamaru got this slight hunch that something wasn't the way it should be.

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The ANBU member made her solitary way down the silent halls of darkness. She understood that, as hers was a secretive profession, the ANBU headquarters being hidden underground was a perfectly sensible security measure. But personally, it still scared her a little, walking all by herself within its maze of corridors.

With much relief did she open the door to her final destination. It was simply a small room, its walls as bleak and grey as those outside it. The ANBU member wasn't interested in the room itself, though. Much more engaging was the person seated in the middle of it, her arms folded across her chest.

On closing the door, the ANBU member finally took off her mask.

The young woman seated opened her mouth to exclaim, her long brown overcoat rustling as she jerked forwards and her dark purple ponytail bobbing.

"Remember, no names," the ANBU member cut in.

"Hmph." Mitarashi Anko crossed her arms and legs, settling back in her chair once more. "I still can't see why I had to come _here_ just so _you_ could see me. Why couldn't you have just dropped by at my house once you're off duty?"

"Because the ANBU has to make an official request," the ANBU member explained patiently. "And if it makes you feel any better, I don't like it here either."

Anko grumbled irritably. "Then you should have just taken me aside on the street and _asked_, like any other sane person. Why does it have to be inside a virtual _tomb_? And no, just so that you know, it doesn't make me fee any better in particular."

"It's even worse for me," the ANBU member argued. "I'm younger than you. It's scarier for me."

"Just tell me your 'request'."

"Fine." The ANBU member sighed. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "It's about you…travels with…Orochimaru." She hesitated, watching Anko's face for any negative--and potentially life threatening, knowing her--reactions, but ended up with no reactions at all. "The thing is," the ANBU member decided it was safe to go on, "We have reason to believe that Orochimaru has reactivated one of his old facilities, and is conducting…experiments…there that could pose a potential threat to us."

She paused again. Anko just blinked.

"Well, professional talk aside, we'd just like you to come and be our guard when we go and try to get rid of this place. It's somewhere you've been before, but probably didn't stay long; it wasn't too important back then…"

"And why," Anko finally interrupted warily, "Are the ANBU so intent on exterminating some random little fortress of Orochimaru's?"

"Someone from Konoha has been taken there," the ANBU member said simply.

There was a short silence. Anko sighed. "Well, it's not like I have any choice, do I?" She got up and stretched. "By the way, why don't you just send an ANBU squad over to get whoever got taken there out and flatten the place?"

The ANBU member smiled wryly, replacing her mask and opening the door. "Tsunade-sama did."

"And?"

"They took the ANBU squad too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Shikamaru was pretty sure that it wasn't a dream.

In all the other dreams he'd had before, for instance, he hadn't once questioned, while having them, whether they were dreams or not. And as he was questioning plenty now, he had to rule out that possibility. Which made sense, in some obscure, hypocritical way.

Then he turned to wondering whether he might really have become Hokage, and then for some reason lost all his memories starting from the time he'd laid down to sleep on the grass. Might it have been, as the ANBU had suspected at first, he had been attacked and knocked out?

Surely not. There were no signs of battle of him; his white attire was clean but for grass stains and didn't have even the slightest tear in them. And if he was someone powerful enough to fight and not even mess up his clothes, then he couldn't imagine how strong an opponent it would take to make him black out.

Make him black out and just _leave_ him there, to all appearances unharmed.

It just didn't seem logical.

Still, it was a more probable theory than, say, having been transported to an alternate universe, for example. Therefore, after losing the garrison of ANBU members--who had very helpfully made up their minds that he was confused from the exhaustion of overwork and just needed rest--he'd headed up to 'his' office in the Hokage building. 'His' Chuunin guards didn't suspect anything unusual and nodded respectfully as he passed--though as far as he knew, he was their equal, only stuck in a troublesome white smock--and a key was very conveniently found when he reached into his pockets.

As far as anyone else was concerned, he was supposedly perfectly entitled to entering 'his' office at any time he wanted. It did feel strange, though, just barging in. Shikamaru's reason, however, told him that he knew better than to knock first.

After lighting a few candles here and there, Shikamaru hesistated, then slowly lowered himself into the high-backed chair behind the solitary desk. It was the same set of desk and chair he thought he was familiar with, but actually _using_ the furniture put them--heck, the whole _room_--into a new perspective. He'd never noticed before how the chair was directly facing the door, giving him the edgy feeling that at any moment, someone was going to burst in and ask what he was doing there.

The trick, he found, was to just look away from the door. He focused his attention onto the stacks of documents on the tabletop and around it. He needed something with a date, for starters…

Ah, a sheet of requested missions. Shikamaru picked it up--and nearly dropped it again.

The date, right down to the day, was exactly the same as the one in which he'd just been an average Chuunin, tired out after a day's work.

Evidently, on the same day, he'd become Hokage.

No, no that couldn't be right. No one just went from Chuunin to Hokage. No one. He doubted that even the Sandaime or Tsunade could have--

Tsunade. If _he_ was Hokage, where was _she_? There had to be some kind of record around. A--a history or Konoha, or something similar. Shikamaru looked around the room. He could ignore the piles of paper lying around; no one really needed historical volumes on a daily basis, so he wouldn't find it lying around.

The dusty cabinets across the room looked promising. Striding over to them, he had just yanked out a drawer when a cardboard box placed inconspicuously beside the cabinets caught his eye.

Newspapers. And believe it or not, on the very top of the old issues was a yellowing paper bearing the headlines--Nara Shikamaru Named Fifth Hokage.

Shikamaru frowned. It was too easy. The newspaper was right there, stacked neatly as though it expected to be read.

Or someone expected him to read it.

The fact that his actions were so predictable to someone else who wouldn't show himself or herself made Shikamaru uneasy.

Nevertheless, the person--if such a character in fact existed; he didn't have any proof, Shikamaru reminded himself--had at least made sure that he wouldn't miss it, and that made things a lot less troublesome, if anything. Picking it up, Shikamaru returned to 'his' desk and unfolded it.

_**NARA SHIKAMARU NAMED FIFTHE HOKAGE**_

_One month succeeding the death of Konoha's previous Hokage, Sarutobi, the elders of Konoha's council announced Nara Shikamaru was his successor._

_Nara, born into a clan traditionally well adept in the art of shadow usage in combat, graduated from the Ninja Academy of Konoha at the age of eight. Reaching the statuses of Chuunin and Jounin at the ages of ten and eleven respectively, the current Hokage joined the ANBU six months after his promotion to Jounin, rising to the position of Head of the ANBU within another half year._

_Known for his diligence and intelligence, Nara's newest promotion is met with little resistance from the residents of Konoha. "It doesn't even matter that he'd young," Shimazaki Tori, Jounin, says. "He has proved, time and time again in numerous missions that…"_

The rest of the article consisted mainly of comments on him by various ninjas and civilians, and a more detailed description of his history, as well as a few comparisons with the deceased Sandaime.

Shikamaru cast the newspaper aside; reading more about how great everyone thought he was wasn't going to help him understand what was going on.

_Nothing_ could possibly explain _anything_ that was going on.

_"Known for his diligence"?_

_Now_ he was floored.

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Expertly slotting the last few shuriken into the pouches strapped to her thighs, the ANBU member turned to the bag of weapons attached to her belt. She would need to buy some more kunais before she set off on her mission; a few more of the knives were lost in every scuffle she had with an enemy, and it wasn't like she could just approach the bodies and pull the weapons out again for recycling. She normally allowed others from the ANBU to dispose of any corpses if she could help it, anyway. It was a gory, messy, disgusting affair, and it unnerved her.

Maybe Anko was right. Maybe she really was too young for the ANBU.

But that kind of thinking, she told herself sternly, wasn't going to get her anywhere. Hers wasn't a job she could back out of at her slightest whim. She had already been entrusted with too many secrets, and sometimes, people who left the ANBU after being told so much had been known to die mysteriously.

Anyhow, jobs needed to be done and secrets needed to be kept. _Someone_ had to do those things, and so while she'd already seen more than she'd ever wanted too, the ANBU member knew she couldn't turn back now.

Stuffing her black cloak and her mask into her closet, she dispensed even of her Jounin vest, with only her hitai-ite to identify her as a ninja. Grabbing some money off her bedside table, the ANBU member left her house, trotting lightly down the street. For an hour or two, she would just be the average kunoichi, going out to replenish her supply of kunais.

Maybe she would drop by at Anko's. If her friend was home, the ANBU member was going to force the purple-haired woman to share her dumplings.

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Shikamaru started awake. He grumbled, lifting himself off the heavy book he'd fallen asleep on top of. He couldn't imagine how he'd actually managed to pull off the feat--falling asleep and staying asleep, despite his uncomfortable pillow. It had been quite galling, reading about all the heroic deeds he had apparently done. This made him even more apprehensive of the situation--not that he knew that exactly 'the situation' _was_ yet.

But he did know that if he were ever called upon again to hold off half a dozen dragons and an army of fire-spitting, half-griffon, half-unidentifiable monster creatures while enemy ninja poured in from another side of the village after a good few months of drought and minor famine, he would probably just pass out.

Shutting the troublesome book, Shikamaru thought about going--at last--to bed. It occurred to him that he had no idea where he 'lived'.

Which was troublesome.

Too tired and sleepy to think of a solution, he figured he would just find another patch of grass to rest upon. And the ANBU could think whatever they liked as long as they let him sleep.

Heaving himself out of his chair, he groaned. Everything was just so _troublesome_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Troublesome…" Wearily signing his name onto a slip of paper, Shikamaru placed it back inside a folder, closing it and tossing it onto a foot high pile of identical files. He had just breathed a sigh of relief when there was a knock at 'his' door.

A Jounin entered the room, his arms so full that he could barely see over the fresh batch of binders. "Hai, Hokage-sama." Lowering the stack in front of Shikamaru, he scooped up the old pile and left the room with a respectful nod.

The door clicked shut. Shikamaru did not move. He stared, open-mouthed, in absolute _horror_ at the mountain of paperwork towering above his head.

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"The team composition seems a little…" The ANBU member searched for the right word, one that would get her message across--which was important; miscommunication during missions often meant loss of lives--and yet not set off her decidedly volatile Hokage. "…a little…unusual."

Tsunade smiled, as though she had been expecting this question. "Your ANBU team is there mainly to put a cap on the casualties and…keep the big picture in mind, so to speak." She shuffled a few papers on her desk. "I trust you see why."

The ANBU members could. All too well. Having regular Jounins do an ANBU level mission without an actual ANBU team was…risky. "Then why…why not send a six man ANBU squad?"

"And have it go the same way as the last one?"

The ANBU member winced, glad for her all-concealing mask.

"The objective circumstances call for a rather larger task force, to be safe, but most of the Jounins are away on missions and we can't spare any more ANBU for security reasons," Tsunade explained in a matter of fact voice.

"But…Tsunade-sama…" The ANBU member hesitated. Was her team only the best Tsunade could cobble together when pressed for time? Sending out people that way only led to disaster, from her experience. "Considering the…objective circumstances… Are you _sure_ the personnel for this mission will pack enough…_firepower_?"

Looking up from a document she had been about to sign, the Hodaime sighed, put down her pen and gave the ANBU member her full attention. "If you only take the objective circumstances into account, perhaps not." She folded her hands neatly on her desk.

"But then--why--"

"Because the circumstances are _not_ all objective." Receiving no reply, Tsunade smiled knowingly again. "You're just the opposite of Sakura," she said with a hint of fondness.

Which the ANBU member thought was _so_ relevant to their discussion.

"You've forgotten the hostage."

Silence. The ANBU member, shameful as it was for an elite ninja like herself, felt completely wrong-footed. The hostage? What did the hostage have anything to do with the mission? All hostages did was be rescued. They had been talking about the rescue _team_, hadn't they?

"For Kami's sake, would you at least try to use your head?" Tsunade's impatient snap nearly made the ANBU member jump. "Can you say _nothing_ about who the hostage is and who I am sending to retrieve him? Those three Jounins on your team, I trust you know who they are."

Not wanting to further annoy the Hodaime, the ANBU member hurriedly opened her mouth to rattle off the names of the Jounins, but Tsunade cut in before she could do so.

"I think you will find the reasons for their motivation quite obvious."

The ANBU member almost scoffed. Even _she_ wasn't _that_ imperceptive. One of the first things she had learned at the Academy, though, had been that emotional outbursts never got you anywhere. And she was pretty sure that a contrite "Well, _obviously_ I know they took one of their kids" categorized as an emotional outburst. "Will motivation be enough?"

It was a mark of how large their age gap was that Tsunade said, "Sometimes I wonder if the ANBU should take on children as young as you," with a tone of amusement.

Not that the girl denied she was the least in age of all her fellow ANBU members, but…_children_?

"Perhaps not, Hokage-sama," the ANBU member humored, albeit a little stiffly. Rigidity in tone didn't count as an emotional display, did it?

Tsunade apparently thought not, or didn't mind even if she did. "There's no need to use that voice on me, you know," she said, acquiring once more the sort of patience bred from fondness. "We both know you're capable. Sakura can't do half of what you can. If I sent her on your mission in your place, she would probably die," she admitted quietly.

"But in some ways, I think she understands more than you do."

The ANBU member didn't doubt that. Sakura's mind capacity had to be _way_ above her own just to understand anything _Tsunade_ said. Especially when the pink-haired kunoichi spent half her time with the baffling Hokage.

"One of these days," the Hodaime intoned, turning back to her paperwork, "You'll find that incentive can serve you better than mere physical strength or skill." She gave the ANBU member a solemn look. "And the only way to cultivate truly intrinsic motivation is through being subjective."

Tsunade signed the contract in front of her with a flourish, and with a wave of the Hokage's hand, the ANBU member was dismissed.

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That was _it_.

Shikamaru had had _enough_, and he simply didn't _care_ anymore. It was taking all his willpower to just pick up the next folder off the sky-scraping pile, flip to the end of each one and scribble his name. Kami himself would have to descend from the heavens before Shikamaru actually _read_ the troublesome things.

He'd tried, at first. He really had. The first few political letters he'd scrutinized carefully, like he was supposed to, and replied accordingly--to his amazement, he found that he could actually compile a reasonably competent answer.

But after an hour or so of _very_ hard work--and after encountering what looked like an entire _dictionary_ stuffed into a file--he'd given it up as a bad job and started signing the empty spaces indiscriminately.

Which wasn't the most responsible thing he had ever done--which was really saying something--but Shikamaru felt extremely justified in saying that he'd never _asked_ for the job of Hokage, so if they _insisted_ on stuffing him into a white outfit and strapping him down to a desk to sign things, then if he, for instance, accidentally authorized the swapping of ANBU cloaks for clown suits, it would _not_ be his problem.

Really.

"Troublesome," he muttered as he marked yet another document wearily. Replacing the irritating slip of paper inside its binder, he threw it onto a stack of replicas of the file stacked haphazardly on the floor beside him. Without looking up, he automatically stretched out a hand to grope at a spot in front of him on the desk.

Feeling only hard wood, he finally glanced up. Much to his surprise and relief, there were no more files left. His first reaction was to fall back into his cushioned chair and let out a long sigh. At _last_. He was done for the morning.

A glance at the leaf-green clock on the wall told Shikamaru that it was past noon. His stomach reinforced that fact and he found that he was actually hungry enough to go secure food.

Which was troublesome.

Heaving himself out of his chair, Shikamaru yawned widely and slouched slowly for the door.

"…Yes, I'm going to Hokage-sama's office now," a cheerful voice squeezed itself underneath the closed door into the room, accompanied by swift footsteps. "No, I don't need help with the files, thanks. There aren't really that many…only about a hundred or so."

Shikamaru froze as the words 'files' and 'a hundred' hit him like punches to the stomach. It didn't take an IQ of 200 to tell what was coming next. Quick as a flash, he was back across the room and whipping open the large window behind his desk, leaping out onto the ledge of the Hokage tower faster than when he had pulled the same stunt on Iruka at the Academy.

He _really_ didn't want to sign any more documents.

The door creaked open and Shikamaru flattened himself against the building's exterior wall. "Hai, Hokage-sama--that's strange." The voice floating out from inside the office lowered to a mutter. "He was still here an hour ago…" There was the sound of a heavy load being unloaded onto a groaning desk, and then the footsteps faded away and the door clicked shut.

By that time, Shikamaru had run down the tower wall and was already two blocks away, having moved faster than he could remember in a _very_ long time. He thought back on the positive avalanche of paperwork he would find cascading down his desk when he was eventually forced to return to his workplace, and shuddered. This Hokage business was no joke.

Naruto had absolutely _no_ idea what he was trying to get himself into.

And speaking of Naruto…

Shikamaru squinted as the flash of an orange jumpsuit relocated itself from rooftop to rooftop and out of sight. As he walked along the street, he saw a solitary figure give the bright blur a final wave and then stick his hand into a large bag of potato chips.

The Chuunin-turned-Hokage smiled for the first time since he had set eyes on his white attire. "Oi, Chouji!" Stuffing his hands comfortably into the pockets of his robes, Shikamaru shuffled towards his friend. "Have a couple of chips left? I'm starving."

Chouji didn't move or even greet him back. As Shikamaru got closer, he found his food-loving teammate eyeing him rather queerly. After a moment of thought, he extracted his hands from his pockets. Now that it had been drawn to his attention, he imagined it _would_ look a little strange to do that kind of thing with Hokage robes on.

But Chouji's uneasiness did not die away. When Shikamaru stopped in front of him, he squeaked--yes, _squeaked_--"Hokage-sama!" He wouldn't meet the other boy's eyes. Glancing down, his gaze fell on his half eaten bag of chips, and as if suddenly remembering Shikamaru's earlier request, thrust the bag forwards. "Hai, Hokage-sama! If you really--"

Shikamaru looked at Chouji, looked at the chips and thought that there was something forced in the gesture. But then he was struck by a wave of hunger that nearly knocked him off his feet and accepted the chips anyway. The moment his fingers brushed the crinkly bag, Chouji retracted his hand like he had been burned.

Again Shikamaru nearly fell over. Chouji never, _ever_ let go of his food. Literally.

"Chouji," he said cautiously, plucking out a chip and chewing on it--he really was starved, "What's wrong?"

The larger boy seemed alarmed, even if Shikamaru had already used his kindest tone. "Nothing, Hokage-sama…"

"Oi, Chouji," Shikamaru mocked reprimanded, trying to break whatever ice had suddenly sprung up between them. They were supposed to be _friends_, for Kami's sake. "You shouldn't shut your own teammate out like that," he joked.

"GOMEN!"

This time, Shikamaru jumped back slightly, startled. "I didn't…" he hurried to explain, but his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the disturbed, bewildered look on Chouji's face.

"…Teammates…?" the boy was mouthing confusedly.

Shikamaru opened his mouth to ask--suddenly remembered, and shut it again.

_Nara, born into a clan traditionally well-adept in the art of shadow usage in combat, graduated from the Ninja Academy of Konoha at age eight._

As much as he respected his friend, Shikamaru highly doubted Chouji could have done the same.

With a sinking heart, he realized he should have been aware of ever since he had discovered himself to be Hokage, and read that article on the same matter:

In this reality, he, Chouji and Ino had never been a team.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

The feeling weighed strangely on his chest.

Shikamaru had never really fancied himself the social type. Company just couldn't be had all the time if your favourite pastime was watching clouds. It was a challenge to find anyone compatible when you were close to being the 'dead last' in class and yet were able to beat everyone you knew in chess games. It was simply hard in general, to make many friends when you mostly wanted to be left to yourself.

And Shikamaru, being quite used to it, never lost much sleep over not being popular.

But with Chouji positively _terrified_ of him, and Asuma only offering a polite but distant nod as they passed each other on the road--Ino was nowhere to be seen--Shikamaru found, to his surprise, that he felt curiously…lonely.

He struggled to grapple with this new concept--it had never occurred to him before how absolutely in dispensable his teammates were to him. He'd never taken much time to think about how Chouji was such amiable company, tender-hearted, non-judgmental--of all his peers, only he cold completely ignore Shikamaru's lassitude tendencies--and a very nice guy in general. Nor had he truly appreciated how Asuma was--there was no other way to put it--a good sport, always willing to play another game of Shogi, no matter how many times he lost. Ino…well, all right, Ino fussed and nagged about_ everything_, his hair, his clothes, his slouch…but there had to be some good intentions hidden within all the troublesomeness. Somewhere deep, _deep _down below the surface.

He'd just never taken the trouble to discover them. Ever. With all his important people around and seeing him on a daily basis, he just_ hadn't noticed_ how much he'd gotten used to them being there.

Of course, now he noticed. Which was terrible timing.

Not to mention troublesome.

Having too many powerful emotions was always troublesome for shinobi. That was a common consensus. Shinobi weren't supposed to _feel _so much, especially on missions, which was how Shikamaru tried to see his situation--one big mission. One in which there were no briefings, no background information, no clear objectives to help him analyze or deal with the situation.

And no, he still didn't know what 'the situation' was.

Which was troublesome.

Even more so was the fact that there was no one and nothing to give him any clues, never mind assistance. No other former Chuunins were running around screaming about how they'd suddenly become the village leader. The people who _should_ have been his teammates and instructor--and everyone else--thought he was a genius/workaholic/insanely underage Hokage, who offered help but never needed it.

No one remembered _him,_ Nara Shikamaru, the lazy Chuunin.

That was why, walking among those he had known from childhood, he felt as though he were wandering within a foreign country.

That was why, within his own home village, he didn't know where he was or who--Chuunin or Hokage?--he was.

That was why, surrounded in a crowd, Shikamaru felt, for the first time in his life, that he was truly…_alone._

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"Oh no you don't--"

"Come on, Anko, I'm exhausted. Cut me some slack, will you?"

The purple-haired woman glared menacingly as a younger girl extracted a plate from a jumbled pile in a cupboard, picked up some chopsticks and helped herself to a bowl of steaming dumplings on the kitchen table. "But it's the third time this _week_ I've had to 'cut you some slack' and--"

"Anko," the ANBU member cut in loudly. "Anko, _please_." She sighed wearily. "You know I'm working overtime every night to gather information to prepare for that mission, and it's not like I can just turn up at anyone else's house and ask for dinner. Just bear with me for now, ok? I'm tired."

The older kunoichi opened her mouth to say more, but her expression softened and she merely shook her head. "There are two things you really need to do," she sighed, taking out a plate and chopsticks for herself. "One; start hanging out with people your own age, for Kami's sake. You're spending almost all of your off-duty time with me, and when I'm not around you're with Kurenai. Not that either of us mind you, but you've got to admit, we're totally out of your age group." She stabbed a dumpling with a chopstick. "Two; _learn to cook_."

The ANBU member blinked and swallowed. "I know how to cook," she protested. "It's just that I've been really beat by the end of the day, lately. Besides, speaking of cooking, it's not like _you _cook or make your dumplings yourself--"

"All right, all right, _fine_," Anko interrupted hurriedly. "So you can cook. But you still need to go out and meet some friends. Sakura and Ino are your age--" Seeing the look on the ANBU member's face, she stopped short. "…er…maybe…Hinata?"

Through a mouthful of pork, the younger girl laughed. "She's not bad. But way too shy and sensitive to be around me, I think."

Anko frowned. "You're not _that _aggressive--"

"No," the ANBU member agreed. "But what am I going to talk with her about? How many people I've killed that day?"

Once more Anko tried to speak, but no words came out.

"She'd probably pass out," the ANBU member shrugged regretfully.

For a moment silence filled the room as Anko observed her friend, a rare look of pity in her furrowed brow. The ANBU member appeared not to notice, and went on eating, unaffected. Finally, Anko said nothing, but sat down at the table, pushing the bowl of dumplings slightly closer to the equally quite girl. They continued their meal without a word.

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For all his wanderings, Shikamaru had gained nothing. Besides that one potato chip of Chouji's, he still hadn't eaten anything, and was feeling decidedly hollow. He'd thought, being Hokage and all, he would be financially well off. But try as he might, he hadn't managed to find a single coin on him. And he couldn't very well demand a free lunch. Even if he _was_ the Hokage.

Thus, under the influence, of instinctive avoidance of all things troublesome coupled with sheer, irrational hunger, he'd taken to walking around aimlessly as though hoping someone would randomly come up to him and offer him food.

Well, not exactly. He'd indeed become optimistic--or desperate, depending on how you saw it--that he would eventually come across such a person who would willingly provide him with a meal. There had to be somebody in the village whom he was friendly with. He just didn't know who.

Occasionally he wondered how the ANBU would react if they found him lying on the grass again, slowly dying from lack of sustenance. Surely they'd feel obliged to give him something to eat. Admittedly, he would look pretty pathetic, being the Hokage and yet not able to feed himself properly.

Of course, the alternative to looking bad was not being fed.

Which struck him as a little more dire.

Once or twice he half made up his mind to find the nearest patch of grass and just stay there until someone showed up with a bowl of ramen. His pride had never been a big issue with him anyway. Besides, he missed lying on the grass. It hadn't been twenty four hours from the last time he'd enjoyed the pricking of green blades against his skin, and he was already going into withdrawal. In fact, he seemed to be going into withdrawal in general over the sudden loss of all the aspects of his old life--the comforting and the troublesome. He longed to have Chouji back, and not just because the large boy always carried an ample supply of snacks. He even missed the annoying way with which his alarm clock rang in the morning, because it had meant breakfast time. His mother had always gotten up early to make breakfast for him and his father--

Mother.

Father.

Shikamaru stopped in his tracks, then turned around and hurdled in the direction from which he had just come, demanding of himself how he could be so_stupid._

Home.

How could he have forgotten about _home_?

As he flew down the familiar road leading to the neighborhood he knew best, Shikamaru's pounding legs threatened to give way under him; he really couldn't remember ever going without food or soldier pills for this long. The one thought that sustained him was that when he got home, things would somehow get a little better.

His mother, at least, would try to shovel lunch down his throat, no questions asked. Now that he looked at it in this new starving light, it didn't seem quite so troublesome.

But more importantly, there would be his father, his lazy, docile father who, even if no one else was willing, would hear out the 'woke up as Hokage' story.

Hear it out, and not automatically assume that Shikamaru had gone crazy.

Skidding clumsily around a corner, he raced along the wide, earthen path that led to his home, heart pounding and shoving the folds of his billowing Hokage cloak out of the way every few seconds. Puffs of dirt sprang up as his feet hit the dusty ground, past the fresh vegetable shop his mother frequented, past the armaments store with which both he and his father were well familiar…

Three more buildings until his.

Two more.

One--

"Nani?" Shikamaru put on the brakes, halting rather gracelessly outside the small apartment building one house further down the road from his own. He felt, momentarily, rather disorientated; not only had he apparently shot right past his desired destination, he'd gone by so quickly, he hadn't had time to notice his outrageous mistake.

But then, he wasn't really in the mood to deal with his sudden, aberrant hastiness. Turning around, he backtracked towards home--and stopped yet again.

There, sitting right next to the apartments left of his home, were the set of flats that_should_ have been to the _right_ of his home.

And in between…nothing. There wasn't even a small gap between the two cold, brick walls pressing, unwelcoming, together as if to further force out the last traces of hope Shikamaru held for finding sanctuary there.

Something filtered through the astonished boy's chest, it seemed, a chill that made him feel as though some part inside him were slowly wilting…

Sighing, he slowly dragged his feet forwards, again moving in no particular direction.

This reality, he decided before he let his mind shut down like a machine deprived of electricity, or a broken shinobi deprived of hope, this reality was_ troublesome._

A new past as Hokage and no interpersonal connections with anyone whatsoever?

"Troublso…" he tried to murmur, before his numb brain decided that it couldn't be bothered.

Just…_troublesome._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Try to think about this rationally_, Shikamaru told himself, even as he felt his brain failing him due to his low blood sugar level. _Rationally._

He would try to pick this problem apart bit by illogical bit.

Firstly, _where_ did he live? The apparent evaporation of his house didn't necessarily mean that his family had gone the same way, and he had to be living somewhere. Hokages too were only human after all. Assuming there did existed a Nara residence, _where_ was it and _why_ was it there instead of there it should have been? Also, _how_ was he going to find out how to get there without taking aside some random person and asking, "Excuse me, could you please tell me where I live?"

Shikamaru mulled the questions over—or tried to, his mind felt like it was moving through tar—and decided that the only conclusion he could come up with that was plausible given the information he'd obtained through observation was the he didn't know any answers.

Moving along to the next dilemma. How was he going to secure something edible before he passed out?

"Good afternoon, Hokage-sama." A passerby nodded to him respectfully. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Shikamaru was sure he was not acquainted with the girl sporting long purple hair.

Nodding back absent-mindedly, he continued to sift through various possibilities. He couldn't bank on coming across anyone he knew remotely personally…he was almost sure the person didn't exist by now…even Shizune did not call Tsunade 'Hokage-sama' all the time; anyone who addressed him thus couldn't be a close friend…

As he walked, he replayed everything that had happened so far, searching for a clue…any clue…and a memory wandered into his mind, sidling slowly into this thoughts as though it were nervous about being recalled.

Shikamaru-sama.

He'd heard that before; Shikamaru-sama. He was positive that he'd heard it sometime within the last day; no one called him that in his old life. This person who knew him well enough to call him by his first name…who was he? Try as he might, he could not match the words to a voice or a face. He tried to remember everyone who had spoken to him to date, and why…

Then it dawned upon him, and he knew, all in a moment, who. Digging deep into his legs for any remaining strength, he turned and ran, calling out. "…Oi…oi!" He didn't know her name, and could only hope that she hadn't gone too far yet. "Oi!"

To his utmost relief, a long purple ponytail swayed in the distance. Shikamaru ran and shouted but the girl didn't stop until he had overtaken her and blocked her way, breathing hard and leaning on his shaking knees. "…Gomen…" he mumbled. Now that he'd caught up, he realized he hadn't any idea of how he was going to put up a convincing act that he knew her when he didn't. "Gomen…I…"

"Are you all right, Shikamaru-sama?"

It was definitely her.

A timid hand reached for his elbow and applied the lightest boost in a hesitating attempt to help him straighten up. Still panting slightly, Shikamaru raised his other hand briefly to signal that he could manage by himself. At once the hand shot away like a startled deer from a hunter. Shikamaru's heart sank and he mentally hit himself over the head. He had to gain this girl's trust here and the very first thing he'd done had already made her jittery.

Great. Just _great_.

"Gomen, Hokage-sama," the girl was saying repeatedly. "I didn't mean to…"

"Eh, it's fine," he replied in the friendliest possible manner, looking the girl over discreetly for any indications as to what she might have to do with him. She dressed normally enough in a simple T-shirt and heavy cargo pants; only the signature hitai-ite around her neck announced her as a shinobi.

A kunoichi? A list of her possible identities immediately came up.

A girl, around his age, through not related to him judging by her violet hair, a ninja who feared him like the rest but held a deep concern for him all the same…

"I don't mind," he tried reassuringly. "…We're teammates after all." He watched for her reaction carefully. If he had guessed correctly, then he could celebrate over having found a 'friend' at last and shake his head at the same time over the insane amount of people who seemed to graduate from the Academy at the age of eight. If he had guessed wrongly…well, then he would have to give her the same excuse as he had given Chouji: that they were both shinobi of the Leaf and therefore were as good as teammates anyway.

Surprisingly, she blushed and looked away, embarrassed but pleased. "Hai, Hokage-sama. It is an honor…"

Shikamaru breathed out a sigh of relief—he had finally found one of his team. Or someone who though she was on his team, anyway. He was just planning how to continue their conversation without revealing the fact that he didn't even know his 'teammate's' name and yet end up at his desired topic when his stomach gave a long, drawn out growl of complaint.

Forget the planning.

"Ne," he said, trying to sound confident. "Would you mind doing your old teammate a favor?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course not, Hokage-sama. What…?"

He smiled. "Could you lend me some money? I haven't had lunch."

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Tori hadn't the slightest idea what was going on. One moment Shikamaru was his normal self, walking by deep in thought without eve a second to spare for her to do more than nod when she'd greeted him. The next moment, he was acting like he'd had the best day in his life and was smiling like it actually came natural to him.

Of course, as a highly trained kunoichi, she'd managed to hide her bewilderment and agree to borrow him some money, something he'd _never_ asked her for before. However, she was thrown completely off balance when he asked if she'd eaten yet and whether she would like to join him for lunch. Seriously. _Him_, the _Hokage_. "I haven't got that much money with me," she told him, feeling quite ashamed. "I'm afraid it's not enough to get what you usually eat, if we both go…"

"That's all right," he brushed it off, smiling _again_ at her. "I was just thinking Ichiraku's, if that's fine with you."

"It's fine," she said hurriedly, thought it only made her wonder more. Ichiraku's? she hadn't known him to set foot in the place in his life. Was this an imposer of her Hokage? Tori kicked herself once this possibility occurred to her. Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? What if this was an enemy here to infiltrate Konoha? She stiffened, watching him closely as they walked side by side to the ramen restaurant.

But…if it was really an imposer, why would they have chosen to impersonate someone as noticeable as the Hokage? And wouldn't he have done a little more research on Shikamaru's general character before attempting it? Besides, as an ANBU member, she had a certain degree of knowledge about genjutsus and her careful scrutiny told her that this person's appearance was genuine.

And secretly…secretly she wanted to believe that this was the Shikamaru who had been on the same Genin team as her.

He resembled so much the teammate she'd always wished she had.

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The task as troublesome, Shikamaru established. He was having no success in making this girl more comfortable with him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do; being nice only seemed to make her more wary of him.

But then again, he reasoned dryly, everyone else was terrified of him; why should his 'teammate' be any different? After which he straightened his expression and corrected his slouch despite the protests of his back. He noticed the girl seemed to regain her composure soon after registering the 'return' of his solemnity, though she looked slightly disappointed.

Jeez, she was hard to please.

Shikamaru was glad that he was finally 'acting more like himself', but acknowledged that if he was going to extract any information out of his 'teammate', he would have to ask a few questions that the person she thought he was wouldn't have. The trick was to do it such that the interrogation sounded reasonably in character, like a conserved Hokage making a few polite and formal inquiries necessary in a social interaction. With a few mouthfuls of hot ramen inside him at last, Shikamaru found it much easier to formulate an appropriate strategy.

"I hope you're well?" he said, trying to sound distant and slightly disinterested.

"Oh—yes, I suppose I am…" The girl hastened to swallow properly before continuing. "Recent missions have been acceptably successful. In fact, there hasn't been a true failure since…since that mission…" She winced visibly.

Shikamaru knew it was awfully unkind of him to press on, but he needed to make progress. "The mission affected you much?"

The girl looked at him with mild surprise that disappeared a moment later, leaving a trace of bitterness. "I don't mean any disrespect, Hokage-sama, but you weren't there when it happened." She paused, evidently unsure about going on. "If you had been there, it probably wouldn't have happened, Hokage-sama," she whispered.

"I…I assumed the personnel dispatched would suffice. You were among then, after all," he carefully threw in a compliment.

The hostility never left her face, though. "I've always wondered why," she admitted. "Sarutobi-sensei assumed something like that too, remember? That we were good enough to be on the same team as you, me and her. But we weren't enough." Her stiffness melted into sadness. "We were always miles behind you even as Genin, and didn't stand a chance against the Sound Four…"

Shikamaru's mind raced. 'His' Genin team had had the Sandaime as the Jounin instructor, he analyzed. There was one more member of the team, other than he and this girl. Another girl. And both females had been involved in the Sasuke Revival Mission. "It was a bit of a miscalculation on my part," he allowed his voice to soften, letting it sound the tiniest bit comforting. "And we're still a good team, even if Sarutobi-sensei…"

Her displeasure returned with a vengeance. "Yes, we _were_," she almost spat.

Slightly alarmed, Shikamaru decided that he needed to step down the 'cold Hokage' act. He didn't know how many friends he hand and he certainly didn't want any enemies. "We still are," he said soothingly. "We still work as a team."

His change in tone appeared to have taken effect; her gaze, as if flickered onto his face, held no anger. "I will always be willing to cooperate with you in battle, Shikamaru-sama." In the place of trepidation, there was now a certain hollowness, drawn out and miserable. "But don't you think…I mean, I know you don't' spend much time with anyone outside work anymore, but don't you think that it hasn't been quite the same since…since Ino died?"

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**Author's note: Look, sorry about the infrequent updates, but I'm up to my neck in work right now because there are some very important public exams coming up and for those of you who live in the US, these exams are equivalent to your SATs. And at least six other subject tests. So yeah. Busy. And the bad news is, this is going to keep up till May, so please don't expect anything soon. **

**Again, sorry. I really can't help it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The ANBU member hurried into the library. The soft carpet muted her footsteps as she navigated the tall wooden shelves, searching for the Genjutsu section. It took her a while; being ANBU didn't exactly make her the most well-read of people as the information she usually dealt with didn't normally come in books. Especially as the new experiments Orochimaru was constantly performing could grudgingly be categorized as cutting-edge technology. _Evil_ cutting-edge technology, perhaps, but still way beyond what the typical library book could cover.

Still, here she was, pulling books off shelves and carrying them back, precariously stacked into a pile over to the nearest available table. Though she set them down as lightly as she could—no easy feat; those things were _heavy_ even with all her training—it still caused the pink-haired girl sitting opposite her to look up. "Ohayo," Sakura whispered.

"Ohayo," the ANBU member mouthed back. The two vaguely knew each other from the Academy, though they'd never been in the same class, the ANBU member being more advanced. And more mature, the ANBU member had always thought, every time she'd witnessed the sickening sight of Sakura chasing after the Uchiha traitor and simpering at him without a trace of basic human dignity.

Since the power-crazy idiot had deserted the village, however, Sakura had calmed down somewhat from her fan girl ways and after a good year or two had actually grown to be quite pleasant. She and the ANBU member got to hold interesting enough conversations when they got the chance, though neither actively sought the other out to do it.

"Research for your patients?" The ANBU member nodded at the other girl's stack of heavy volumes labeled _The Nervous System: Role of the Spinal Cord_ and so on.

"Hai," Sakura confirmed. "There's this one who's…kind of in a coma, but he's a special case and none of the healers have any idea how to help, so…" She gestured helplessly at the books that, combined, towered way above her head. "What about you?"

The ANBU member shrugged. "Just wanted to check something up about Genjutsu."

Sakura arched a brow. "You're a Genjutsu user? I didn't know that."

Shaking her head, the ANBU member turned the first aged, dust covered page. "I'm not. Hardly know anything about it, which is why I need these." She waved a hand at the mountain beside her. Technically, her knowledge of Genjutsu probably topped Sakura's, give all the extra training. But she couldn't really explain that she was gathering information for an ANBU mission, for reasons obvious.

Not that she didn't want to ask for the other girl's help; advanced Genjutsu fazed the ANBU member more than a little. She needed Kurenai for this kind of thing, but the woman was on a border patrol duty and wouldn't be back for a while. As for Anko…the ANBU member quirked a smile. Anko was perfectly capable of using Genjutsu, but her knowledge of it wasn't particularly inspiring. "What's wrong with kunais?" she'd always ask whenever anyone brought the topic up.

At times, the ANBU member actually agreed with her brash friend, but missions were missions. Resignedly, she started to read.

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For the first few seconds, Shikamaru processed it like any other piece of information he'd obtained so far. Right, so he'd sent Ino on a mission with this other 'teammate' of his—at least something about this place was normal, though he couldn't think why Ino had been left as part of his team when Chouji and Asuma hadn't—and she'd di—

The purple haired girl looked up sharply as Shikamaru inhaled harshly.

"…Hokage-sama…?" She looked at him quizzically, as though she couldn't quite place him.

"It's nothing, I…choked—" he forced a few weak, lifeless coughs "—on my ramen." Absently he reached for his green tea and allowed his throat to swallow mechanically, giving him time to think. Or not to think, for that matter.

Ino, dead? Dead, as in…_dead_? Shikmaru once again found himself grappling with news he couldn't digest. Not that death was at all new to him—the purpose of shinobi, once you got to the core of the job, was to make sure other people ended up dead. Which explained the kunais and poisons and things they all carried around. It was just that…dead? As in, he wouldn't see her coming round the corner to nag him about his laziness? Dead, as in she would never speak or walk or laugh again? Dead, as in he would never get the chance to apologize for routinely ignoring her because he found her troublesome?

That couldn't happen. Oh, be believed this 'teammate' of his. He believed that Ino had died. And yet, it couldn't have happened. It wasn't _impossible_, obviously. Ino, like him, like anyone else, was merely flesh and blood after all. Especially as a kunoichi, death was very, very possible. But still it couldn't have happened.

His teammate, his _real_ teammates, just didn't _die_.

They didn't.

Firmly closing his eyes, he pictured them in his mind: Chouji, up to his elbow sifting through a bag of chips, and Ino, telling him off for it while holding this wistful look in her eye that plainly said she was trying hard not to remember the savory taste of barbecue.

_That _was what they should be doing. Chouji shouldn't be acting like a stuttering, bad copy of himself and Ino had no business being dead.

This…reality, no, this _non_-reality, it was all wrong. Just _not right_. Shikamaru _refused _to believe—

Thin, pale, hurting, dying, the image of Chouji in the hospital room, just after the Sasuke Revival Mission, burst into his thoughts.

Still, silent, sprawling over blood-soaked soil with specks of red splattering the sharp, unforgiving grass around her, Ino's lifeless form tore forcefully into his consciousness. She needed help—or was she already gone? He had to give it a try, even if she was only just alive—but he couldn't.

Because…it was only all in his head.

"Shikamaru-sama?"

He opened his eyes and removed the cup, now drained of tea, from his lips. A quick sideways glance told him that the girl was now gazing at him with a most peculiar expression, tender and for some reason, approving. Something tickled his cheek and Shikamaru lifted a hand to brush the troublesome irritant away, only to bring his fingers back wet. Stunned, he slowly traced the thin stream of tears with his palm, rubbing them dry when he remembered that 'Hokage Shikamaru' probably would never cry. Even over death, and the loss of a dear friend. "My apologies," he composed himself. "I recalled something…unpleasant."

The girl's smile was hesitant, but flooded with sympathy all the same. "Ino?" she suggested gently. "Your clan?"

His clan? His clan _what_? Shikamaru figured he probably couldn't take more bad news, but his craving for answers overruled all reason. "I…I…my clan…it…" He knew perfectly well that if he kept up those obvious symptoms of an emotional breakdown, his 'teammate' would soon guess that he wasn't really her Hokage. But seriously. No friends but for one terrified 'teammate', no family—the implications the girl had given about his clan didn't sound too favorable—and absolutely no _life_ outside being the village leader? They could cart him off to hell for all he cared; it couldn't be too much worse.

Amazingly, the girl not only didn't raise the alarm and turn a kunai on him, but found the courage to touch his arm briefly in what little comfort she could give him. "Don't blame yourself, Shikamaru-sama. You were always a strong shinobi, but you were still so young when it happened. The assassins outnumbered your whole clan. Please don't—oh, Shikamaru-sama…"

The hand she lay on his shoulder as he cradled his head, unable to keep up his act at last, was much firmer than he had expected. It told him to be strong, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to be. How many others had, like this girl, like Ino, like his poor family, been hurt because of him? How many more had he caused pain, directly or indirectly?

"It's my fault," he moaned into his fingers. "They only wanted _me_," he spoke out of his sub-consciousness, before he could fully register what he'd just realized. "They only wanted _my_ life."

"Well," the girl's voice sounded reasonable, though not unkind. "You possessed power unheard of before, for your age. Every other village worried about what you might grow to become."

But to Shikamaru, it didn't really matter. This reality, or his reality, it didn't matter anymore. How many times had people sought his life? How many had been killed in those evidently blotched attempts? Worse still, he had actually survived to send Ino, probably lots of others, to their untimely deaths.

And far had he come from the numbing sense of incredulity he'd felt on hearing of Ino's decease. Like a lifetime of pondering all in one second, he'd understood all too well what it was for someone to die. Or rather, to cause someone to die. To leave loved ones crying and lonely, to extinguish a flame which could never be reignited, no matter how hard he begged or how loudly he screamed. No matter how many times he said sorry. The ultimate act of finality, in other words.

Shikamaru knew it wouldn't be very pragmatic or helpful to anyone except his enemies, but he still felt the urge to just kill himself on the spot.

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As one of the ANBU, Tori should have been ready and prepared for any scenario.

Which just showed that there was a gaping hole in her training, because dealing with an emotionally traumatized Hokage wasn't something she remotely knew how to do.

Sure, she'd _thought_ she was well versed with Shikamaru's moods, having been his teammate and all, but surprisingly none of the known methods seemed to work. It didn't help that she'd never seen him in this state before either.

It was all very puzzling. Reminding him that as a shinobi, he had to keep his feelings in check—something he had _constantly_ patronized her about before—only made him slump further into full-fledged, uncontrollable sorrow. Hoisting him to his feet with an arm around her shoulder, on the other hand, went down unexpectedly well wit his unmanageable pride.

All the same, being ANBU, Tori succeeded in ushering Shikamaru back to the Hokage tower without being stared at too much, and lowered him limply into his chair after entering in through an open window to his office.

She forwent trying to prop him up into anything resembling a normal seating position.

Moving with kunoichi grace and efficiency, she removed files liberally from his desk, temporarily positioning them onto the floor, then checked to see if Nara Shikamaru, her rigid Hokage, had resurfaced yet.

No, apparently he had not.

Helplessly, she teased a few napkins from his desktop box into his hand, which he accepted without comment, or his trademark "I'm fine, leave me alone". Surveying his deflated demeanor, trembling with suppressed sobs, she decided that there wasn't much more she could do for him. At least, not for now.

Reluctantly she left the tower, heartily wishing that she could have stayed to fend off anyone else requesting an audience of him until he'd had time to pull together.

She didn't think other people would take as kindly to being faced with the same suspicions she was running over now.

True, Shikamaru was still Shikamaru fundamentally, but somehow, somewhere, sometime, something had changed. Oh, this was his body alright. And basically still his character, though only barely. But the person, the person who was him—was _not_ him.

Not anymore.

Tori for one knew that he seldom mourned for anyone; much less allow others to see him in the action. She just wished she knew what had brought about this sudden upheaval in personality. She would have liked to ask for help, but exposing Shikamaru to less sympathetic villagers didn't seem like a good idea. She might not see him as mad, but there was no guarantee about other people.

And anyway… Tori smiled slightly to herself as she flew across roofs.

This might not be a bad thing altogether, this change.

For now, she decided as ANBU training kicked in, she could only watch and wait until he calmed down enough for her observations to be of any value before she planned her next move.

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**Author's Note: Ok, ok, so I said exams. Well, I still have them, don't worry. I just have this habit of writing a little after meals and stuff before I start work, which is why this came out. Actually, writing isn't the problem. It's finding the time to type them up (parents, studying, you get it) that's the thing, so I have absolutely no idea, as of this moment, when the next one might come up.**

**No, seriously, I don't know.**


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